High Wire
by rincoulter
Summary: The 'Always' kiss from Beckett's perspective- I wrote this last summer and didn't finish it due to writer's block, but the other day I found it amoung my documents and decided it was worthy of some attention. I know it's a little late, but give it a shot! And hit me with a review too, I wanna know what you think!
1. Balance

A/N: I found this fic burried in my docs the other day and decided that it was worthy enough to see the light of day. I know it's a whole season late, but really? The 'Always' kiss never gets old.

Another thing: If you guys really like this, then I have a little extra bit that I could add as a second chapter- if you review, that is.

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle, nor any of it's wonderful characters. That credit belongs to Andrew. W Marlowe and his lovely wife Terri Edda Miller (thank you, you two).

* * *

Balancing on a high wire.

That was how she felt then. In those moments. Climbing the stairs to his lobby in dripping garments. Riding the elevator up to the seventh floor. Calling him.

She almost loses her balance as she watched her shaking, fabric soaked arm extend, fist quaking. Her knuckles rap the dark wood of his door and her stomach flutters terribly, her knees yearned to give way. Never, in all her life had she been so anxious, nervous, yet so completely calm and sure. Never, had she let something like this effect her so fully. It scared her to death. Her breath came in ragged gasps and her heart lurched unevenly as she fought to rebalance herself.

She was balancing on a high wire. She would come crashing down, or she would make it to the other side.

Listening to the sound of footsteps, swallowing hard against the stubborn blockage in her throat, she watches the door handle turn, creating a slit in the frame that widens, brightens, and exposes him to her. The sight of him settles something inside of her, beating away the anxiety and the terror.

Relief dances through her system as her gaze falls upon the familiar plains of his face. She could finally breath. So when the inevitable and ever-present emotions invade her system, she lets them stay. Instead of pushing the feelings away like she does -did- every other time her gaze met his features, she lets them stay and envelope her. She was done fighting.

She watches as his expectant expression hardens at the sight of her. Watches the warmth drain out of him, turning him stony, cold. This change, and realizing that she had been the one to bring it upon him- that she had transformed him into someone who put up walls, someone like _her_- sent forks of guilt and misery through her chest. The yellow glow emitted from the depths of his loft framed his features, deepening their lines. And when he speaks, it is not with the usual carefree, joking tone that had been her reason, relief, during even the darkest cases, but an entirely different voice, laced with the same hard edge she can see in his face.

"Beckett, what do you want?"

The sound of her name resonating on his tongue, her need to persuade him, to have him understand made her mouth form the word.

"You," And her body reacted before she could process its next moves. It had already known what to do.

Her legs took the steps and her arms reached for his face. Gaze locked on his lips, her cold palms captured his warm jaw as he stepped back. Her fingers scraped across the stubble covering his cheeks on the way to the flesh of his neck, and her lips connected with his. Sweet and desperate. He raises his hands, objecting, a crease bunching between his eyebrows as he pulls away. His mouth opens in pain as he restrains himself, gasping. She brushes her thumb across the worry lines under his eyes while her forehead connects with his, and she stares only at his lips as she whispers,

"I'm so sorry Castle," His breath washes over her face, panting, "I'm so sorry. M' so sorry."

She swallows, kisses him again, and feels his palms wrap around her forearms, pulling her back.

She takes a breath, the lump back in her throat and the misery of her mistakes fresh in her head. She looks into his face, watching him struggle to find words as he composes himself.

"What happened?" Was all he said, his voice monotone. She doesn't have to think; the words fall from her lips easily, truthfully. She was sure, completely certain of them, like they were lines from a play that she'd had to rehearse.

"He got away." His expression didn't change. It stayed frozen, a look of confusion and restraint carved into stone as he tried to figure out her reasoning.

She continued, "I almost died- and all I could think about was you," Her gaze skipped across his face then, watching for a tell.

"I just want you."

She leans in again, pausing to draw another breath. Hesitant. She touches the corner of his mouth, needing to feel him, to have him understand. Her touch ignites something, and in a flash of lightning, he flies to her, pushing her up against the door, molding his warm lips to hers. The streaks of light outside seem to mirror their electricity as they, finally, find each other.

Her heart pounds, excited.

Alive. She was alive with him.

They were dancing.

Finally losing control. Stepping past the line. Breaking down the last few remnants of her walls. They crumbled away as their lips met again and again.

Her body was furious; a sister storm to the one outside raged through her system. She felt the starved pressure of his hands everywhere. Her neck. Her face, her shoulders. Her back.

She tasted him over and over, his tongue tangled with hers, and she reveled in the distantly familiar and enchanting feel of his mouth as it melded to hers; as the seam of his lips pressed to the line of her neck, wet and hot. She drew her fingers through his hair, trailed her palms across his shoulders. She felt him, his skin, the fabric that clothed him. She felt his heartbeat, his breath as it skittered and swirled across her wet flesh. She breathed him in. Cologne and sweat, and the distinct aroma that was his alone.

Their limbs tangled, his arms encircling her, pulling her closer. It was almost painful, the amount she needed him, craved him. Her heart thumped loudly, coursing blood through her veins, flushing her skin as it flared.

It was easy, graceful, as they wound in and out. And she felt him tugging, knew what he wanted. She could feel his unacquainted pull, a subconscious telling her he needed to see, to make sure.

As his hands pulled her close, his lips pressing again to her jaw line, she whispered,

"You can look,"

Her stomach whirled and her knees gave way as he ducked, trailing kisses down her neck. Gasping, he kissed her chest- kissed the scar- her heart fluttering madly against his lips. He pulled back and she watched him as his hands undid the clasp of her blouse. She held her breath as he stared, and, finding his hand, she guided it until his fingers touched the healed wound.

He breathed deeply through his mouth, flattening his palm against her chest as she held it there in one hand while she brought the other up to graze his jaw once more.

They kissed again, gently, their swollen lips connecting over and over. She reveled in these kisses, basking in their retained glory.

Opening her eyes, she saw his blue ones staring back at her, and an uncontained, undaunted smile split her face. His eyes crinkled as he looked back at her. Her body ached, and her mind chanted over and over its craving. Still smiling, she found his fingers, clutching them in hers as she pulled him in the direction of his bedroom, never breaking their gaze.

Kate Beckett had made it to the other end of the high wire.


	2. Lightning

Strikes of lightning illuminated the room, the rain-specked windows sending lines of twisting shadows snaking upon the floor. The language of their lips spoke above the soundtrack of whipping rain and rolling thunder as sirens screamed through the streets outside his dim-lit bedroom. Their heartbeats pounded around the room as they helped each other out of their layers, laughing quietly between kisses while the garments clung stubbornly to her skin.

He backed her up against the foot of his bed, body pressed flush against hers as they swayed in their underwear. His fingers cradled her head while his lips sought out her scar once again; still trying to reassure him that this was happening. That she was here, soaked and alive in his arms. He knew without asking that she felt the same way.

His palms circled her face; slid from her cheek to her jaw, caressed her forehead and grazed her shoulders. His touch burned her cold skin, and the trailing of his fingers left goose pimples blossoming along her spine. They both toppled onto the bed as her knees gave way, but he caught himself before he could crush her, bracing his arms on either side of her head. Everything seemed to slow down as he met her gaze.

Autumn eyes bright in the dim lighting, her face split into a genuine grin, seemingly more dazzling with every endless second. Bubbles bloomed in his stomach at the sight and the urge to kiss her grew too hard to resist. And as he broke the infinite moment, bending his neck to peck her nose, she reached up to wrap both of her arms around his neck.

Bringing his ear to her lips, she captured the soft lobe between her teeth, breath huffing into his lobe. Something between a growl and a groan escaped his throat and she wrapped a long leg around one of his, flipping him onto his back and trapping him between her thighs. Her body tingled; hot and alive, burning so intensely she could only just bear it. She was drunk with want, warm and fuzzy with adrenalin and desire. All she wanted was to be closer to him- to get as close to him as she could.

Castle's palms snuck behind her back then, his fingers walking along the tender muscles to the edge of her bra. He struggled to unclasp the hooks, and her face split into smile upon hearing his exasperated huff. He helped her shimmy the straps from her shoulders, tossing her bra to the foot of the bed before diving into her body, burying his face in her still-damp hair, his breath crawling through the dampened locks.

Skin sticky with sweat, she pressed herself flat to his chest, sucking along his collarbone, and biting softly at the flesh. Her tongue caught the beat of his heart, pulsing hard and fast, and she sucked against it, pulling his skin taut. He growled throatily in response, rolling her onto her back. Lightning outlined his features, catching his icicle eyes as he dipped his head to take one of her nipples between the seam of his lips. His panting breaths coasted along her skin as, sucking excruciatingly, he drew his teeth over her with the faintest pressure, making her whole body pulse with electricity. He bit down, pulling it gently, and a sweet cry broke from her lips as one of his hands came up to cup her other breast, hot and greedy.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles together and tugging his body closer to hers. She revelled in the feeling of him pressed up against her skin, grinding upwards as he broke away from her breasts to capture her lips with his. Her palm snaked behind his head, deepening their kisses, while she slipped her other hand between their furious bodies, teasing the elastic of his waistband before yanking them off his hips.

He huffed into her mouth and she tasted the desire on his breath as she pushed them from the bed, her muscles straining with the memory of her fight on the rooftop. Thunder rumbled, growling in the clouds as they sat up. She broke from the tangle of limbs, and he helped her free him from his boxers before reaching over and opening the nightstand's drawer.

After producing a square package from the depths of the drawer, he holds it up to her and wriggles his brows, eyes widening jokingly as he mouths "safe sex". She rolls her own eyes, amused, and snatches it from his hand- though she does have to admit that it's a relief to see the 9-year-old in him again.

Once everything was sorted out, he pushed her back into the nest of sheets, planting flaming kisses upon her torso as he climbed over her. She was breathless, lost in feeling as he lowered himself onto her. Her breasts flattened against his chest as he touched his nose to the base of her neck, breath skittering across her clavicle. Her hands grasped his hips as he aligned himself with her, pausing for a brief moment before sliding smoothly between her folds.

A strangled gasp left her lips as he filled her, and she clutched him even closer, forcing him deeper before allowing him to pull back out.

There was nothing then but simplicity.

So simple.

The fire was nonexistent; all that was left was the effortless connection they had always shared. Only this time it was magnified, intensified, a thousand times over.

She felt his heart beat through his chest. Felt the inflation of his lungs and the breath that blew in gusts against her burning skin. She felt him, absolutely, as he slid in and out of her, as his muscles worked around her, flexing and pulling. His body fit hers like lock and key; it was as if they were made for each other. He seemed to know the exact way to move; what spots to hit and how fast or how slow to go. Each pulse and pull matched up perfectly to hers; she felt more alive than ever before as their bodies connected again and again, consumed by the passion that had been locked away for so long.

Finally, finally, after four years, they had crossed the line.

When it was all over, she lay in his arms, exhausted as she smiled absently to herself. His ribcage rose and fell against her cheek, the movement lulling her to sleep with every intake. Her hair lay splayed across his chest, fanned out against his skin as her eyes fluttered gently. The storm outside still raged, though farther away by then; the flashes of lightning were weaker and the thunder rolled distantly, no longer threatening. She listened, content and warm and finally on stable ground.

It was only seconds before she dropped from consciousness, nestled securely in the embrace of his arms.


End file.
